Page 14 of The Pawn
I lick my chapped lips as I climb the stairs. At least he’s not playing the piano anymore. At least there’s that. When I reach what was once the Maestro’s living room, I find Malek looking out of the window at the back. Well, there’s not glass, that’s long gone, so he’s looking out of a hole in the back of the house.
“Houses like this don’t burn down so easily.” He turns to face me, puffs on the cigar before crossing the room to tap off ashes in the ashtray on top of the piano. I wonder why he bothers. The whole house is ash. A little more won’t make a difference. “Are you going to behave yourself or do you need to be handcuffed?” he asks, gesturing to the chair he’d sat on last time except that now a set of handcuffs is hanging off the back.
Instead of answering him because I don’t trust myself to speak, I move toward that chair. When the soldier breathing down my neck grabs my arm, I tug it free and sit, folding my arms across my lap.
My gaze moves to the cigar. He notices.
I clear my throat. “Where are Amal and Daniel?” I ask,because when Cassian finds out what’s happened to me, he’ll go to the house. He’ll take them. More collateral. But that’s assuming he’d know it was Malek.
And also assuming he’d care that I’d been kidnapped at all.
“My children?” He sounds surprised.
“I know you’d use them as pawns if it served you.”
“Well, now you insult me,” he says, picking up the cigar, puffing before placing it in the ashtray once more. “But they’re fine. Visiting family.”
“What do you want with me? What am I doing here? Why am I alive?” It takes all I have to keep my expression neutral. To keep from letting him see just how afraid I am.
“All good questions.” He looks at the cigar. “Your father had an excellent assortment of these. He wasn’t very good at sharing, though.”
“Did you steal them from his office after you killed him?” I try to say it with a sneer, but my voice falters.
“I thought you said you’d behave.”
“I’m not clawing out your eyes. I’d say that’s behaving.”
He smiles a smile reserved for an unruly child and gestures with a nod to the soldier at my back. Before I can think, the bastard has a fistful of my hair and is tugging me painfully to my feet.
“Kneel,” Malek says.
“Fuck you,” I tell him.
The soldier who still has my hair twists and I feel the heat of tears at the corners of my eyes.
“I said kneel,” Malek repeats, but doesn’t wait for myfuck you. Instead, he gestures to the soldier who forces me down to my knees.
I struggle against him, instinct, scratching at the skin ofhis hand when I can’t pry him off, my scalp burning when he pulls that much tighter.
Malek crouches down in front of me as the soldier forces my gaze to the floor.
“I wouldn’t,” Malek says and before I can even get afuck youout, fire sears the back of my neck, and I let out a sharp cry. I hear the burning of skin, get a faint whiff of it over the stench of the cigar. He presses harder, twisting the cigar into tender flesh.
“Fuck. You!” I manage as the soldier begins to drag me to my feet.
“I like you on your knees,” Malek says between puffs as he relights the cigar. “It’s humbling, isn’t it?” he asks me. “You know what is even more humbling?” He shifts his gaze from me to the soldier. “Strip her.”
“No! Stop! Stop!” I fight as Rami comes to stand before me. I guess he was in the room the whole time, but I didn’t see him. He grins, grips the dress with two meaty hands and rips it apart like it’s nothing. Like it’s made of paper.
If my father were here—fuck! He’s not here. And what would he do if he were? What? Not let any of these people hurt me? That’s a joke. Hell, he’d likely do the hurting himself.
The soldier at my back grips my arms and pulls them to my sides. Rami finishes by shoving my underwear down and it’s somehow more humiliating to be standing with my panties around my ankles than it would be if I weren’t wearing any at all, but I don’t move and I don’t look at Rami as he looks me over, making a lewd gesture with his tongue before getting out of the way so Malek can see me like this.
My eyes fill with tears, but I raise my chinand force myself to look at Malek. To meet his eyes after he’s taken his fill of me.
“A little skinny for my liking,” he says. “What do you two think? She your type? Go on. Have a good look, Rami.” Malek gestures at me like I’m fucking dessert as he brings another match to his cigar.
Rami looks me over. “Not meaty enough, like you said, but I’m not picky.”
